


It's just you, and that's fine

by ottertrashpalace



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (brief) - Freeform, Angst, Asexuality, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Oneshot, Post-Canon, Recovery, ace!graves, discussions of preference and consent, noncon not between main pairing, sex-repulsed ace graves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 09:49:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10660047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ottertrashpalace/pseuds/ottertrashpalace
Summary: Credence and Graves live together, and they must recover together. Some discoveries are made along the way.





	It's just you, and that's fine

**Author's Note:**

> basically this is what I wrote because i hit a block on Ride. Hope ya enjoy. Also, i'll double up on the non-con warnings. Credence has a nightmare. stay safe.

February.

“I’m so sorry,” the pale boy at Graves’ door whispered, his voice croaky with disuse. “I—“

“Credence,” Graves breathes. His hair was longer, and his cheeks, horrifyingly, were even more hollow than they had been when the two had first met. “They told me you were dead.”

“I thought I was going to die.” Credence replied, glancing up briefly before returning his gaze to the doorstep.

“Come in, it’s fucking cold,” Graves managed. Credence was trembling as he stepped over the threshold.

He dried Credence off hastily with a charm and herded him into the living room and went into the kitchen to whip up something hot. His mother had always made toddy when he was a kid, but lord knows his pitifully bare spice cabinet didn't have what it took to make toddy. Cocoa it was.

When he returned to the living room with a warm blanket in one hand and a mug of hot chocolate in the other, he found Credence still standing in the middle of the rug, looking only slightly warmer than he had before. Graves frowned, and placed the chocolate firmly in Credence’s bony, bluish hands, and threw the blanket over his shoulders.

“Sit down,” he murmured, Geri ring to the couch. Credence obliged.

“Why are you doing this?” He asked Graves after a pause. 

Graves’ eyebrows knit together. “Because you were cold. It was my fault, to begin with.”

Credence just looked bewildered. He shook his head slightly, as though trying to dislodge the confusion. 

Good Lord, it hadn’t ever occurred to him… “Do you remember what happened at the train station?” He asked quietly  

Credence froamed. “How long has it been?”

“Six weeks,” Graves replied, realization settling in his stomach with the claws of a grindylow. “Do you remember anything since then at all?”

“No…” Credence stared at the hot chocolate. He still hadn’t drunk any. 

He thought that Graves was still Grindelwald. He probably had never noticed the difference to begin with. Graves swallowed.

“There’s… I’m not the best person to tell you this, but… there’s this dark wizard, you see, a German man named Gellert Grindelwald.” Saying his name still felt like spitting nails. “He kidnapped me, close to four months ago now, and used a potion called polyjuice to take on my appearance. He wanted to use my position to advance his own agenda, and part of that was… well, you.” 

Graves paused and glanced at Credence’s face. It was blank, but with the life he’d had with that damned mother of his, Graves wasn’t surprised. He forged on.

“After the train station, he was found out and arrested. He’s currently in France awaiting trial. As for me, they pulled me out of his hidey-hole a month back and I’m still on leave. I know that this is hard to hear, especially coming from me, and I wish I had a way to prove it to you.”

Credence was trembling again, but his body language did not invite touch, and Graves didn’t offer it. The mug slipped from Credence’s fingers and shattered against corner of the coffee table, causing Credence to jump and recoil. 

Graves cleaned the mess with a flick of his wand, but it was Credence he was more worried about. He had drawn his too-thin limbs into a tight ball, pressed against the back the couch, frozen in place.

“Shhh, Credence,” Graves began, hoping he was making things better and not worse. “It’s alright, easy fix. You’re alright.” 

Credence glared back up at him with equal parts terror and distrust in his gaze. Graves couldn’t say he blamed him. He sighed. Damn Grindelwald. If the courts didn’t sentence him to death within a week, Graves would have to take a trip to Paris and fIrish the job himself.

“You don’t need to prove it to me,” Credence spoke after a long while, startling Graves.

“What?” He replied, caught off guard. 

“It makes sense…” Credence balled his hands into fists and let his feet fall to the floor, though his arms were still wrapped around his torso protectively. “When you came back after Miss Goldstein confronted Ma, you didn’t smile at me on the street like you always did. It was strange, but I didn’t think about it too much then.”

Graves nodded. Thank Merlin the kid had always been to observant for his own good.

“Besides,” he muttered, “you’re nicer than he was.”

“That’s good to hear,” Graves said, unable to keep his relief out of his voice. His own damn office staff hadn’t been able to tell the difference, and that kind of thing sticks with you whether you like it or not.

He looked at Credence searchingly, glancing over the sharp cheekbones and the sunken, purple circles under his eyes. “How about this,” he began. “I have a guest bedroom that I never use, and more mandatory medical leave than I know what to do with. The room locks from the inside, and there'a plenty of books in there to keep you occupied. You can stay here, if you like, for as long as you like.” He owed Credence that much.

Credence’s eyes went wide. “I—can’t—“ there was fear there, too.

“I won’t tell MACUSA, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Graves said bluntly. “They tried to kill you, and I won’t let that happen again.”

Credence just nodded. His eyes glistened. “I don’t know how to thank you.” He murmured, his old submissiveness creeping back into his tone.

“Don’t,” Graves insisted flatly, "it’s the least I can do. Besides, I have trouble with an empty house after… well… how about dinner and a shower, and then bed?”

Credence just stared at him, his face unreadable.

“Alright, I’ll take that as a yes.”

 

March

The sound of whimpering woke Graves in the middle of the night. He jolted upright in his bed, hand clenching his wand where it always sat at night beneath his pillow. The sounds were coming from the next room—it was just Credence, having a nightmare. Graves relaxed slightly, but kept his wand in his hand as he got up and went to the next room. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, but usually he woke Graves up by wandering around the apartment, trying to walk off the memories, not thrashing around while he was still asleep.

He cracked the door to the guest bedroom open an inch, and saw Credence curled up on the bed, blankets askew, as he mumbled a distressed litany of “no”s and “stop, please”. Graves hesitated-- he had promised the boy privacy, after all-- but the cries were unbearable, so he cursed under his breath and approached the bed slowly. This was uncharted territory, and he knew very well that if the nightmare had something to do with Grindelwald, Credence was almost certain to react badly upon being woken up. Still, though, he had to try.

“Credence,” he tried, “Wake up, it’s a dream…” but even as his voice grew louder, Credence didn’t respond.

He put a light hand on the boy’s shoulder, shaking him gently. 

“No!” Credence jerked wildly away from the touch, almost slamming his head against the wall. A wave of magic forced Graves back, leaving him stumbling  

Regaining his balance, Graves clenched his jaw and put both hands on Credence’s shoulders, holding him steady. “It’s just a dream, Credence, just a dream, you’re alright, now.” 

Mercifully, Credence’s eyes flew open, and the terror in them as they registered Graves’ face confirmed his hunch. He released his grip and stepped back, letting reality settle back in. A minute or so later, Credence’s breathing slowed, and he relaxed a little, leaning back against the headboard. 

“Sorry I woke you,” he said, as he always did.

“It’s no trouble,” Graves responded, as he always did. Silence. “Was it him?” he asked eventually. Credence generally only slept if they managed to talk about it.

“Yes,” he swallowed. “He…” but all that came was a shudder, which seem to wrack his entire body.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Graves reminded him, alarmed. 

Credence shook his head. “He… when we were alone, he used to… take me into your bedroom, and…" He shuddered. "He touched me.."

Graves didn’t need to hear any more than that. He felt the sudden need to vomit. “That slimy, rotten, shit-faced bastard,” he cursed, wishing there were insults colorful enough for the rage that was burning inside of him. As if Credence hadn’t gone through enough, that piece of _shit_ had taken what remained of his self-ownership, violated him in the most intimate way possible. Graves came back to himself when he heard Credence gasp, and realized that there were angry sparks shooting from his wand. He regained himself. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Merlin and Morgana, Credence, I’m so sorry. We—we should move—I can’t ask you to—“

“It’s in the past now,” Credence said. I can’t ask you to move, just because of that.”

“Just?!” Graves squeaked. “He—he did that to you, here…”

“He held you prisoner here for three months,” Credence pointed out.

“That’s not the same,” Graves argued.

Credence just shrugged. “I’m good at forgetting things when I need to,” he said, in a tone that was all too matter-of-fact.

“Do you need anything?” Graves asked, fighting the sudden tears in his eyes. Credence hesitated. “Anything, anything at all,” Graves repeated, almost desperate.

“Would you… stay?” He asked, finally.

This was the last thing Graves had expected him to say—stay? Now? After that?—but he didn’t let it show. “Of course, if you want me to be here.” 

He perched on the end of Credence’s bed, which was blessedly large enough for the both of them. Credence hesitantly shifted over, patting the spot next to him. Graves took the invitation, though he was careful to move slowly and deliberately. His hands stayed where Credence could see them.

“If it’s too much, tell me to fuck off,” he said softly. Credence blushed slightly at the profanity. 

“Okay,” he whispered back. His knuckles brushed Graves’ hand, and Graves took the hint. Their fingers fit together almost too well.

Somehow, Credence fell asleep, their hands locked together and shoulders touching. Graves sat awake for a long time, shocked and awed in equal measure. Credence was truly a miracle, he realized.

 

April.

It all started when Graves came home early. They’d started to let him do work for the department again, but he was under strict orders from Seraphina not to take any field missions, and to be home by three o’clock sharp every day. Much as that irked him, he found that spending the extra time with Credence kept him from getting bored and restless. They had really built an easy friendship, as close as lifelong friends, or at least that.

On that particular day, the office had closed at noon after an accident in Experimental Charms had filled the entire wing with Peruvian Darkness Powder, making any and all work impossible. Graves had made a short stop at Kowalski’s and apparated home, hoping to surprise Credence. 

And surprise him he would. Credence, figuring he would have another three hours until Graves came home, had taken a pleasantly long shower and was lying on his bed, naked, his hand wrapped around his cock. Something about that day, with the first inklings of warm spring sun, had given him the gumption to try something he hadn’t dared do since he was thirteen and it had happened for the first time, rather on accident. Needless to say, that was not a happy memory.

Nevertheless, he’d been reading some of the more, shall we say, _queer_ works on Graves’ bookshelf, and it had emboldened him. He had been getting somewhere, too, the words of Oscar Wilde running through his head and the scent of pine and sandalwood surrounding him, when he heard the knock on his bedroom door and it all went south (so to speak).

When he came back to himself, he was curled up on his bed with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and Percival’s soothing tone pulling him back into himself. He remembered that Mr. Graves—no, Grindelwald—was dead and rotting somewhere, and he was home, home with Percival. He took a deep breath. 

“Are you back with me?” Percival asked. Credence nodded. 

“I—um—there’s some clothes on the dresser, when you’re feeling up to it. And I brought pastries home from Kowalski’s if you’re hungry.”

Was Percival _blushing_? Credence had never seen him look so awkward before. The nasty voice in his head that sounded so much like Ma’s told him that it was because Credence was a disgusting, sinful creature and he was regretting his wasted charity, but those Oscar Wilde texts had been on his bookshelf to begin with, so…?

Perhaps it was the whole affair with Grindelwald. Yes, that was it. Of course Percival would want nothing to do with someone who had been fucked by his worst enemy.

Credence put on his clothes and follow Percival out to the dining room, snagging a cherry turnover and sitting down, waiting.

“Are you alright?” he asked, once Percival returned from his office.

“What? I should be asking you that,” Percival said, but he was avoiding Credence’s gaze. Credence frowned. 

“You’re acting strangely about all of this.”

Percival sagged, slumping into the other chair across the table. “You’re right. I’m sorry. There was nothing wrong with what you were doing, and I’m sorry that I walked in on you.”

“I was reading Oscar Wilde,” Credence admitted, a little relieved when Percival granted him a half-smile.

“Wilde. Yes. That makes sense.” Still, though, he wasn’t meeting Credence’s eyes.

“Percival,” Credence murmured. He was sure that something was off when Percival snapped his head up to look at him. “What’s this about?”

Percival just shook his head ruefully. “Nothing, really.” He gave Credence a _look,_ and Credence shrugged, giving in. “If anything, it’s a long story for another time.”

 

May.

Credence was determined. He’d managed to successfully get himself off twice, now, and he longed for more. He realized now that what Grindelwald had done to him had nothing to do with the real thing, and he craved real, loving sex. He knew that Percival cared for him, deeply, and he hadn’t missed the soft glances and lingering touches. He was no fool. It was driving him wild, not knowing, and he finally decided that there was only one way to find out. 

It was after dinner that he made his move, when they were sitting together on the chaise. They were just sitting and reading, like usual, but Credence let his hand brush against Percival’s thigh. Blood pounded in his ears. He chanced a glance at Percival’s face, and saw surprise there, but nothing off-putting. Adrenaline pumping through him like a drug, he leaned over, moving with almost imperceptible slowness, and Percival met him halfway, their lips locking gently. A large, warm hand cradled Credence’s jaw. He let his fingers wander up Percival’s leg as they moved together, until, out of nowhere, Percival jerked back, panting.

“I’m sorry,” Credence said automatically, his body moving to panic mode.

“No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, this is all my fault,” Percival snapped. Credence flinched, but Percival was pulling in on himself, cradling his head in his hands. “I’m all wrong, Credence. I always have been.”

That caught Credence’s attention. “What do you mean?”

“I… I’ve never wanted… this. Any of it. Not from women, not from men, not ever. I always assumed that it would just happen someday, when I met the right person, but it never has… I’m old, now, and if it’s not you, it’s too late for me. I’m so sorry, Credence.”

Credence just stared. “Oh… oh!” he almost laughed. “If it was that simple, why didn’t you tell me?”

“What?”

“I thought—I thought you didn’t want me. I thought it was because of Grindelwald, that you didn’t want to have me, but it’s just you.”

Percival shook his head. “Of course I want you, Credence, just not… in that way. Believe me when I say I’ve tried all that, and it never worked. Not once.”

Credence found himself folding his arms around Percival. “Thank God, thank God.” he murmured into his hair. Hesitantly, Percival’s big, warm hands settled on his back and waist.

“I love you,” Credence whispered before he could stop himself.

“I love you too, more than you know,” Percival murmured, pulling back slightly and planting a small kiss on Credence’s forehead. “Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> back to Ride now. Enjoy. Also hopefully i actually managed to fill in the section that just said *seduction* when i originally wrote this  
> Kinda just knocked that out in one night lol sorry. thanks for reading all the way down. Feed me comments and kudos, they are my livelihood


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